It's a hard life
by mad.about.friends XD
Summary: Basically phoebe's life from the moment her mam dies up until she moves in with Monica, first fic, please r&r!
1. Chapter 1

**IT'S A HARD LIFE-CHAPTER 1**

**Summary:** Basically phoebe's life on the streets from the moment her Mam dies up until she moves in with Monica. Did my best with what I could get from the episodes where she talks about her life on the streets and would love to know what you think, so please r&r!

**A/N: **OK, so I'm new to this and I really hope this is o.k. and would greatly appreciate feedback. I used a bit of creative license in this fic a there really aren't that many details about phoebe's life before she met the others, so I hope it works!

**Disclaimer: **All friends characters are property of NBC and Warner Bros. studios and their creators and producers Kauffman Crane and Bright. I do not own them or the songs in this story but am merely borrowing them for the entertainment purposes of this fiction.

A cold, frigid wind blew through the garden of upstate primrose terrace, stirring the snowflakes on the ground and making phoebe Bouffay shiver. The flakes of snow swirled around her and crunched under her feet as she made her way towards the deepest patch of snow in the far corner of the garden. Phoebe crouched down in the snow, knees sinking into the soft white powder as she packed some into a freezing ball in her fist. and then proceeded to roll it around in front of her. More snow stuck to the previous ball and her gloves as she pushed it through the flakes.

Despite the cold, the dampness seeping through her gloves to make her fingers numb and the possible excitement of being able to make a snowman, nothing could take phoebe's mind off the fact that she was, in all respects, alone. Her father had abandoned her, her mother and her twin sister Ursula when she was younger, leaving her Mam to raise them alone. Her stepfather had just recently been taken to prison for alcohol abuse and public violence. In short, he was jailed for getting drunk and in a street fight and he wasn't getting out anytime soon. He wasn't much of a father figure but he was something, phoebe reasoned. Without him, their large house was emptier than ever. Also, ever since her stepfather had been jailed, their Mam had been acting quite weird around them and spent hours in her room by herself, surrounded by clouds of smoke, screaming at them if they entered without permission and smoking herself to death on the normal ingredients of cigarettes and God only knows what else.

Phoebe was twelve, but far from stupid. She knew that they would be in trouble, and soon, if her Mam didn't remember that she had kids to support and get a job. They were fast running out of money and neither Phoebe nor her sister had eaten properly in weeks. Aside from the fact that she hadn't seen her Mam at all today, her twin sister Ursula had turned down Phoebe's offer to make a snowman with her in favor of staying inside in the warmth and painting her nails. Phoebe scoffed- to her, nail-painting was one of the most pointless exercises in the world along with hair-styling and smoking. Ursula had argued that so was making a snowman _' I mean as soon as the sun comes out, it melts- at least my nail varnish last for more than a few hours'_ Phoebe sighed. As far as she was concerned, being out in the cold for a few hours doing something constructive was a far better option than hanging around in an almost empty house doing nothing and wondering what was a better option for dinner tonight; blue mouldy bread and beans or a very questionable quiche that she was pretty sure had been in their freezer when they moved in.

Her snowball was now much larger and the patch of snow she was rolling it in had worn down to the ground, stray pieces of bright green grass poking through. Deciding that the bottom half of her snowman was done, phoebe started another snowball in a fresh patch of snow, rolling it faster now as the cold started to get to her. Her trousers were soaked through and several pieces of the light snowfall from earlier when she had first come out had wedged into the back of her coat and were melting against her hot skin, trickling ice cold down her back. Phoebe decided to do the only thing she could do when her thoughts and/or the current situation were getting too much for her; sing. She liked to think of song lyrics just to take her mind off things and this was definitely one of those times. Phoebe picked up the large snowball she had finished rolling and placed it on top of the other as the snowman's head. She then turned to the handful of items she had taken out with her and left to one side in the snow; several pieces of coal and a wizened old carrot. She picked up the pieces of coal in her snow-dampened gloves and pressed them one by one into the snowman's face in an upturned, happy smile, the opposite of how she felt right now.

As she worked, Phoebe softly sang inside her head _"I mad a man with eyes of coal and a smile so bewitching", _then stopped, trying desperately to think of a word that rhymed with bewitching. Lichen? Flitching? Itching? Nothing worked. This was probably the first time in Phoebe's life that singing had not worked to take her mind off of things, a mark of just how serious the situation was. Giving up, she pushed the carrot into the snowman's face, wrapped her scarf around its neck and placed her hat on its head. With the abrupt loss of two of her most important articles of clothing, Phoebe was feeling the cold more than ever. Sighing, she turned and ran inside, slamming the door behind her.

The warmth enveloped her all at once causing her eyes and nose to sting. Phoebe kicked of her shoes and hung her coat up on the stand inside the door, then headed towards the kitchen, no longer able to ignore the grumbling in her stomach-she needed to eat. Upon entering the dim kitchen, she tripped over something lying on the ground and went sprawling heavily onto the hard, cold tiles, all the breath knocked out of her. Gasping, phoebe stumbled to her feet and flipped the light switch to see what it was she had tripped over. She looked down and her blood ran cold. It was her Mam. Her Mam that had not left her room in days, had been chain smoking for weeks, and now was lying on the kitchen tiles next to an empty bottle of pills and something that looked suspiciously like weed. Not allowing herself to think about it, Phoebe bent down and felt her Mam's wrist for a pulse. There was none. "No." Phoebe said out loud "No, no, no, no, no, no!" Ironically the perfect last line for her song popped into her head at that moment _" How was I supposed to know that my Mam was dead in the kitchen"_

" URSULLAAA!"….

A/N: ok, so that's it for this chapter, I promise that it gets more interesting, but please let me know what you think anyway, thanks! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I couldn't update for a while because the laptop was playing up but I'm back on track now- here's the next chapter! :) Also, I'm uploading this from my ipad as the laptop is on the blink and therefore I have not got a clue of how this might affect the layout, so if there is an absence of paragraphs you know what to blame!;) By the way, the views on foster care and orphanages in this chapter in no way reflect my own views on the subject and are only there for the purpose of the story. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and songs are property of Martha Kauffman, David Crane and Kevin Bright and I do not own them, I am merely borrowing them for the purpose of my story. No profit will be made from their use.**

Ursula wandered down the stairs, blowing lightly on her still-damp nails, in no apparent hurry to get to the bottom anytime soon. Phoebe gritted her teeth and yelled her sisters name again, watching with absurd satisfaction as Ursula yelped and jumped about a foot in the air, tripping down the last few steps. She said nothing, but Phoebe could tell from her narrowed eyes that she was wondering what on earth could possess her usually calm sister to yell so desperately.

Phoebe's satisfaction at watching her sister lose her cool was abruptly swamped in a wave of grief about what she was going to have to say, as the reality of the situation hit her yet again. What were they going to do? She swallowed hard and spoke, her voice hollow. " Ursula, I think you had better see this." Her sister stepped forward to look around Phoebe, her eyes widening at what she saw. Just as quickly, she turned on Phoebe, her eyes cold.  
"What the hell did you do?" she demanded angrily.  
Phoebe stared at her in disbelief " What the hell did I do? Have you even seen her recently? She did this all herself, trust me!"  
Ursula continued to glare at her, but Phoebe could see a hint of sadness in her gaze. Despite herself she was sorry about what had happened. No matter how useless their mom had been recently, she was still their mom and she hadn't always been like that. Furiously blinking back her tears, she turned to her sister.  
"What do we do now?"  
Ursula blinked. " I guess we call an ambulance?"  
It sounded like more of a question than a statement. Phoebe sighed, sharing her sisters misgivings. You call an ambulance if their hurt, but who do you call if their already dead? The truth of that particular statement hit her like a ton of bricks.

Dead. Their mom was dead. The shock appeared to be wearing off, her barely suppressed sadness overrun by a sudden adrenaline rush.  
"What will happen to us?" She demanded urgently.  
Ursula shrugged.  
"Put into an orphanage, I suppose" she stated off-handedly.  
Phoebe gasped. " An orphanage? No way!"  
Anger boiled in her gut. There was no way in hell she would be tossed into an orphanage with all the other parent less kids, with nowhere to go and nothing to look forward to, clinging to the small hope that lay in the hands of a social worker that someday she might be fostered and make something of herself again. Phoebe was nothing if not proud, now fully determined to make her own way even if it meant being homeless. At least she would be independent.

With all the naivety of a twelve year old, she immediately put her plan into action, disregarding of the fact that being homeless was not something to be taken lightly and was infinitely more difficult than being in an orphanage. Phoebe didn't mention her plan to her sister, knowing she would not come anyway. Ursula liked her creature comforts, even the limited ones of their lonely home or a busy orphanage and there was no way she would abandon them for a life on the streets.

Phoebe met her sisters eyes. "Will you call an ambulance?" She questioned, "I don't think I can do it." Her voice shook slightly at the prospect of talking to someone over the phone, explaining the whole sorry situation and the dead mother that she had yet to grieve properly for. Just the thought brought more tears that burned her throat and stung her eyes. Swallowing hard, Phoebe turned and darted upstairs without waiting for a reply. She knew her sister would do it anyway.

In her room, Phoebe threw open her wardrobe, gathering all her clothes together and flinging them on her bed. She snatched the one and only picture in her room from her nightstand and tossed it on top of the pile, aware that she had very little time. It was a picture of her mom and real dad together when her and Ursula were babies. They were sitting on the faded beige couch in the living room, side by side. Her mother was holding Phoebe and her dad held Ursula. Even as babies, the twins were identical, with bright blue eyes and fluffy blonde hair. Phoebe was clutching a handful of her moms blonde hair in her fist, laughing up at the camera. Her dad was tickling Ursula, who was laughing harder than Phoebe.

Looking at that family, you would never guess what happened only weeks after the picture was taken. Her dad had left suddenly, with no explanations and no apparent reason. It hurt Phoebe to think that a man who looked that happy with a wife and two daughters could think it was ok to leave and never say why. The divorce papers came just days after he left and by the next week it was final- they were divorced, he was gone and not even her mom knew exactly why.

Their mom had re-married not long after to their step-dad and that ended with a jail sentence for him and this for her. A part of Phoebe deep down ached to be back in that time in the picture, frozen in that happy loop forever, with two married parents and a sister who didn't hate her.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Phoebe bundled the clothes and picture into her suitcase that she dragged from under her bed. She twisted the bottom of her piggy bank and shoved the money that fell out into her pockets with no time to count it. She darted into the hall and grabbed a blanket from the airing cupboard, then pulled on her winter coat and sprinted downstairs.

Ursula was sitting silently on the bottom step of the stairs, cradling the phone in her arms and staring unblinkingly at the body of their mom in the kitchen. Tears glazed over her eyes but didn't fall. Phoebe felt a wave of sadness tinged with guilt wash over her at how quickly things had spiralled out of control, and how she was going to leave her sister to fend for herself.  
"What did you tell them?" she asked Ursula.  
"Just that I walked into the kitchen and found her like this." her sister replied.  
"You didn't mention me?" Phoebe checked.  
"No-you're leaving, aren't you?"  
The statement didn't surprise Phoebe. She had always suspected Ursula knew her better and cared for her more than she let on.  
"Yes." she said.  
"You had better leave soon then, they'll know who we are once they check the records but you can get a head start if you leave now."  
Phoebe swallowed. In her rush, she had temporarily forgotten about the fact that there would inevitably be people looking for her, wanting to find her even though she didn't want to be found.

Ursula had not moved from her seat on the step and Phoebe had not tried to move past her. She stepped down now though, dragging her suitcase with her. She suddenly realised how impractical it was for her newly-adopted street life. I'll buy a rucksack to replace it as soon as I can, she told herself, then, thinking of all that was in the suitcase, she silently added; a big one. She forced her self to smile at Ursula, who stood up to face her properly, her features carefully arranged into an expression of indifference.  
"Good-bye."she spoke softly, taking an unnecessarily deep breath as she did so.  
"Bye." Phoebe replied.  
It seemed a very inadequate way to bid farewell to a sister she may never see again, but, given the current circumstances, she couldn't really afford to be picky. Phoebe turned to the door, squared her shoulders and opened it, stepping out into the cold, bright light of mid-afternoon.  
"I'll miss you,"she threw over her shoulder as she prepared to close the door behind her. The words that came back were almost to quiet to hear, laden with a meaning that would never be explained and heavy with sadness that was tearing Phoebe apart.  
"I'll miss you too..."  
Phoebe closed the door and stepped into the open, in no way ready, but unable to turn away from, the life she had chosen from the moment she saw her mom lying dead on the kitchen floor.  
"Here goes nothing..."

**Sorry that it's so short, but it felt right to end there. I'll upload the next chapter as soon as I can. Until then, review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**A/N: Here's the next chapter, hopefully you'll like it. If you are reading this story, PLEASE review, it's very motivating;) I am totally open to criticism as long as it's constructive. It doesn't have to be a long review, just something small to let me know you're reading this and whether or not you like it! :) xx I would like to thank The Charmed Rose for their review on the last two chapters, long overdue, sorry. Also, my knowledge of New York is poor at best, so please forgive me for any mistakes.:)**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except the plot, all characters and songs belong to David Crane, Martha Kauffman and Kevin Bright. No profit will be made from their use in this story.**

Phoebe strode down the front path of her previous home, looking far more confident than she felt. In reality, she had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do. She already regretted not eating before she left the house, but comforted herself with the thought that there had been nothing there worth eating anyway.

She shivered, snow crunching underfoot as she made her way to the end of the path, turning one last time to look back at the place she had called home for the past 12 years. In truth, it was now further from a home than anyone could have ever imagined, hiding a body and the sister she had left behind. Ursula.  
Phoebe forced the feelings of guilt down, reminding herself that Ursula wouldn't have wanted to come anyway. To her, an orphanage was far more appealing than a dark alley or doorstep. It was actually starting to sound pretty appealing to Phoebe too, considering the alternative.

She forced herself to keep walking steadily forwards, down the street of neat detached houses with spacious, impeccable front gardens buried in snow. Before her dad had left, both he and her mom had earned a lot of money and moved here to enjoy it, as upstate as they could get. Not long after her dad left, her mom had stopped homeschooling the two sisters and re-married to their step-dad who was now in prison. Of course this had caused mutterings among their snobbish neighbours, who seemed to believe their meaningful glances at her mom and sympathetic gazes for the girls might be enough to make them realise that they were sullying the reputation of their previously perfect neighbourhood, as if they didn't already know.

Neither Phoebe or Ursula went to school, and therefore missed out on both a proper education and the chance to make friends. Their whole family was generally avoided anyway. It was as if they had signs above their heads screaming; We Don't Belong Here. Which they didn't. They had only had enough money to buy the house and had moved upstate, away from a previously simple and dramatically different lifestyle. Most, if not all of their neighbours had lived here, and places like this, all their lives, and were rich enough to have bought the whole street without thinking twice.

Phoebe heard the wail of an ambulance siren in the distance and walked faster, ducking her head into the collar of her coat and hoping none of the neighbours recognised her. They would, of course, choose this to be the first time in many years that they had actually acknowledged her existence, the one time when she would have been glad if they had ignored her. Phoebe reached the end of the street and swerved left, hoping she was moving away from the faint sirens. She spotted a bus stop up ahead and moved faster, deciding a bus would be the quickest way into town and away from here.

At the stop, Phoebe paused to catch her breath and count her money. One advantage of having previously rich parents was that an awful lot of money had been given to both Phoebe and Ursula when their dad left, and a lot of it had still remained in her piggy bank, and now in her hands. She glanced furtively up and down the road, willing the bus to come faster. With nothing else to do, Phoebe had spent long hours as a child simply staring out the window to watch the world move by, or, at least, the residents of their street. She had always watched the people waiting for the bus and therefore knew that it would arrive at 7 o' clock on the dot, as it did every singe Tuesday. She checked her watch. 6:50. Just ten minutes to go.

Phoebe passed the note through her hands carefully, counting the values in her head. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, one hundred, one-twenty...  
It went on like this for a while, until she had counted all the notes and coins to add up to the grand total of 300 dollars. It seemed like a lot, but Phoebe had a funny feeling there had been a lot more. It wasn't really surprising to realise this. Her mom had been both a drug dealer and a consumer, what was to stop her from taking money from the daughters who no longer came before her addiction?

_Nothing_, she decided bitterly.

The bus arrived then and she stuffed the money back into her pocket, stepping on into the warm air as the doors hissed open and then shut, trapping her, the only person at this stop, inside with a surly looking driver and three other elderly passengers. Phoebe swallowed hard.

"Where are ya headed?" The driver drawled, clearly bored.

"Into the city." Phoebe replied with confidence.

The driver rolled his eyes. "Everyone here is headed to the city kid, whereabouts do you want to go? " He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for her answer.

Phoebe bit her lip. She had never really been into the city, let alone taken the bus there, and had no idea where she wanted to go.

"Ummm...somewhere with shops?" she tried. Maybe if he thought she just wanted to shop he wouldn't think anything of a twelve year old girl getting the bus by herself when she had clearly never done it before.

The driver eyed her suitcase suspiciously, but said nothing only; "You'll want the square then - that's 3 dollars with no return."  
Phoebe handed him the notes and he snatched them, gave her a ticket, then turned away and floored the accelerator before Phoebe had a chance to even move away. The sudden jerky movement of the bus caused her to lose her balance, falling heavily into the nearest seat, face down with her suitcase pressing painfully into her legs.

She blinked back smarting tears of pain and straightened up, sitting carefully in the seat and settling her suitcase beside her, ears burning with embarrassment. She could feel the hostile gaze of the other passengers burning into the back of her neck. _At least, at the rate he's going, the journey won't be long_. she thought.

As if on cue, traffic hit. Phoebe already knew that the main part of New York city was quite close and figured they must be entering it already and that's why it was busy, but the square was in the centre-it would take ages to get there and she was beginning to feel not only unwanted, but distinctly uncomfortable as well. Phoebe hunched down in her seat and started planning what she would do when she got into the centre to distract herself from the tense atmosphere of the moving bus.

She would have to find a side alley or a sheltered doorstep, she reasoned. After all, the snow would have gotten everywhere that didn't have some sort of cover. She could probably get some cardboard from someone's outside bin to separate her clean blanket from the dirty ground, but something told her a dirty blanket would be the least of her problems very soon. Her stomach growled. Food. Food would definitely be a top priority. She could easily find a cart vendor to sell her something cheap.

Feeling marginally more prepared, Phoebe settled down to stare out the window at the passing traffic, trying desperately to distract herself from letting her thoughts wander. To what, she didn't know. Anything she could possibly think about right now had a distinctly negative vibe, from her moms death, to the freezing weather she would soon be exposed to, to Ursula, to the eyes still burning into the back of her neck.

The traffic speed suddenly picked up, the road clearing as the bus moved at a faster pace, steadily making its way towards the bustling New York centre. It seemed unusual for the traffic to be going faster the closer they got to the centre, but she didn't dwell on it. Phoebe swallowed hard and drew her suitcase closer to her, mentally preparing herself for both the cold outside and the unfamiliarity that was sure to follow. The bus shuddered to a stop at the side of the road, the doors sliding open. Phoebe moved forward, dragging her suitcase as she moved towards the door, then stepped out into the cold.

She moved forward through the light snow, head bent low as she wound her way through the crush of people surging along the footpath, silently cursing her awkward suitcase as it banged repeatedly into stranger's ankles, occasionally tipping over on it's side as she yanked it harder.

Phoebe turned quickly down a narrow side alley, wrinkling her nose at the smell of rubbish. A dull yellow dumpster was situated at the other end of the alley, empty, but stinking of garbage. Phoebe dropped her suitcase as far away from it as possible, tucked in against the wall, away from the light covering of snow that dusted the ground. A rustle at the other end of the alley alerted her to another persons presence.

"Hello?" she called, her voice shaking.

"Hey!" came the gruff reply. "What're you doin' 'ere? This 'ere's my alley!"  
A stoop-shouldered old man came into the light from behind the skip. He was unshaven and grimy, but his dark eyes were shrewd, and appraised Phoebe slowly. Just when she was starting to feel uncomfortable under this intense scrutinization, he stopped.

"You're new."he stated. It wasn't a question. "Run away from 'ome, I'm guessing." Phoebe said nothing.  
"You can stay 'ere then," the man continued, like he was doing her a massive favour, which, by his terms, he probably was.  
"Enjoy." he added dryly, disappearing back behind the dumpster.

Phoebe sank down onto the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. That was quite possibly the single most depressing conversation she had ever had. She was now officially living in an alley with only a weird old man, a smelly dumpster and her suitcase for company. _Oh joy._

Phoebe settled her suitcase further into the shadows and stood up, preparing to brave the cold wind outside the alley in search of food. She moved quickly down the street, weaving through the throng of people to a nearby street vendor. Five minutes later she returned to the alley with a full stomach, telling herself it was about time she got to know the person she was sharing this particular stretch of ground with.

"Excuse me?"she called nervously. "Can I talk to you a sec?"  
The dishevelled head of her alley-mate popped out from behind the dumpster.  
"What about?" he grunted.  
Phoebe hesitated.  
"I never did catch your name.." she ventured.  
"Sidney."  
The head disappeared again.  
The exchange had been so brief, Phoebe couldn't help but wonder if she might have had a more productive conversation with her suitcase.

"Wants to know my name, does she?" Sidney's voice suddenly crooned.  
Phoebe moved towards the dumpster, wondering if their was someone there she had yet to meet.

"You know my name though, don't ya? - Been here as long as me, you have."

Phoebe peeked cautiously around the edge of the dumpster to see Sidney, seated on the ground with his back to her, chattering away earnestly to his hand. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The sight of a grown man having a serious conversation with his own hand was at once hilarious and, well, _sad_. The poor man obviously would have been better off in a hospital, but the chances of him ever getting to one were slim, to say the least.

She sighed and moved carefully back towards her end of the alley, pulling the blanket out of her suitcase and settling down on the ground. Phoebe shifted around for a long time, trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable on the hard ground. Eventually, she gave up and lay still, trying desperately to tune out Sydney's ramblings. The noise of the traffic outside and the people still shuffling past did nothing to aid her in sleep. Phoebe's last thought before she drifted off was that she had forgotten both to find some cardboard to put on the ground and to buy a rucksack.

You know what to do;) xx


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**A/N: Here's another chapter, because, we'll, I'm bored and have nothing better to do.**

**Disclaimer:All publicly recognisable characters and songs are not in any way owned by me and no profit will be made from their use in this story.**

Phoebe awoke early, woken by both the cold and the noisy traffic out on the street. Yawning, she stretched, then winced, as the stiff and painful areas of her body made themselves known. Sidney was snoring loudly down at the other end of the alley and she moved to stand up carefully, in no mood to wake him after the odd scene she had witnessed yesterday. She decided to take a look around the nearby stores and see if there were any rucksacks for sale, to make up for forgetting about it yesterday.

Phoebe moved slowly down the street, her movements sluggish from lack of sleep. She turned sharply into a nearby shop, welcoming the warm, scented air inside, relieved to get out of the cold. She trudged around the shop, searching for a large rucksack as her thoughts wandered. She wondered what had happened to Ursuala. Even now, she was probably tucked up safely in an orphanage bed, warm and comfy. Probably worrying about her, actually. Despite herself, Ursula cared and Phoebe knew it.

She shook her head to banish thoughts of her sister and prevent the guilty feelings from rising again, then snatched a rucksack of the shelf and headed towards the checkout.

Five minutes later, Phoebe was back out in the cold and heading back to the alley. She sat down on her blanket and began to pull her clothes out of the suitcase and stuff them into the rucksack, wondering for the first time why she had brought so many.

_It isn't like I have anywhere decent to change._

Standing up, she swung the rucksack onto her back and picked up the suitcase, slinging it into the dumpster. This way, all her stuff was with her and she could walk the streets and come back here at night.

Phoebe stepped out into the busy New York street, blending in easily with the bustling crowds of people outside the alley. The sights, smells and sounds of the street bombarded her, almost over-powering her senses. People moved to-and-fro, without stopping to talk to anyone. Some chatted on mobiles, paused to hail taxis, darted across the road, and all ignored the small girl in their midst, with no place to go and no family to go back to.

_Their all in such a hurry,_ Phoebe thought.

She inhaled the smell of exhaust fumes that nearly made her choke, combined with the mingling perfumes of the people moving by and the enticing scent of coffee and chocolate floating from nearby cafés. Car horns blared and people shouted, the faint wail of a stiff, cold winter wind continuing under it all. Phoebe closed her eyes, absorbing all aspects of the city down to the last stone. Images, memories, flashed through her head as her subconscious took over.

_"I'll miss you."  
"I'll miss you too... "_

_"A snowman? You're kidding, right? It'll just melt when the sun comes out!"_

_A cloud of smoke lay over her mom's room, turning everything hazy. A voice floated through.  
" PHOEBE! What have I told you about coming in here?" Get out, NOW!"_

_Her mom, dead in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes glazed over but her face peaceful for the first time in years._

_A handful of blonde hair, the honey strands clenched in her fist._

_The cold, steely look that has always been in her step-father's eyes, but was either never noticed or ignored by her mom, maybe because, after the sudden disappearance of Phoebe's dad, the last thing she needed or was able to do was to send someone else away, no matter the reason._

_Bouncing on her mom's lap, laughing at the camera._

_Sitting on the window seat watching the neighbours move past, just to get away from her thoughts. One day, Robert Green from next door stared straight at her, not unlike the way her step father used to stare at her mom. The memories came flooding back and, after that, Phoebe doesn't watch them anymore, because her neighbours bring back the worst thoughts of all._

_A faded beige couch._

_Drifts of ice cold snow soaking through her trousers, a cold snowball exploding on the back of her neck. Phoebe turns to see Ursula laughing, her head thrown back and her eyes sparkling, at least until Phoebe's carefully aimed snowball hits her square in the face._

_A cold, dark, empty, aching space in her heart where her family used to be..._

Phoebe opened her eyes, coming back to the present with an unpleasant jerk, the sights and smells of the city slamming into her like a wall. She felt hot tears on her neck-they had slid down her face so fast she hadn't even realised they were there. Phoebe collapsed downwards onto a nearby doorstep, buried her face in her hands and sobbed. For what, she didn't know. Maybe for the death of her mom, the disappearance of her dad, the sister who's whereabouts she had no idea of, or maybe a little bit of all of them.

Every memory, every emotion, seemed to be crashing down on her in wave after wave of unbroken sobs that tore through her chest and burned her throat.

It felt like years before Phoebe gained control of herself enough to walk back to the alley and collapse again in the shadow of the the wall, suddenly exhausted.

She could hear mumbling voices coming from behind the dumpster. At first, she ignored them, then curiosity got the better of her and she crept forward to peer around the side. She met the gaze of a pair of anxious brown eyes, belonging to a boy who looked about the same age as her. Beside him was another boy with smooth, tanned skin and dark eyes, and a girl with long red hair and bright green eyes.

For one bizarre second, they all just stared at each other without speaking. Nobody moved and they barely breathed. The anxious look faded out of the first boys eyes and was replaced with a glint that suggested he was trying not to laugh. Phoebe bit her lip. The other boy's lips twitched and the girl let out a sudden snort. Within seconds they were all laughing fit to burst, at absolutely nothing. Phoebe couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard, and was unwilling to stop. But they all finally gained control of themselves enough to start introductions.  
"I'm Sam." the boy with the brown eyes said.  
He gestured to the other boy. "This is Pierre."  
He nodded towards the girl."And that's Lily."  
"I'm Phoebe." Phoebe said. "And, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing?"  
The response was so immediate and unexpected that she almost laughed again.  
"We're learning French." said Sam. "Off Pierre - he's French." he added, unnecessarily.  
"We meet every Wednesday." said Lily. "You can join us, if you like."  
Phoebe didn't even hesitate.  
"I'd love to!" she said.  
Never having gone to school, this seemed an ideal opportunity to catch up on both her education and the chance to make friends, so she settled down to follow Pierre's instructions.

It was several hours later before Sidney arrived back at the alley. Phoebe stiffened as he entered, unsure if he knew the others, but he merely nodded to them and sat down a few feet away with his back against the wall.

"He knows us." Sam murmured to her. "He lets us do the lessons here so long as we don't get in his way."  
Phoebe nodded and the others stood up to go. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement amongst them that Sidney's arrival was their cue to leave.

"See you next Wednesday!" called Lily as they left.  
"Bye.." Phoebe murmured.

She turned to see Sidney smiling at her triumphantly.  
"Told you you'd make friends, didn' I?" he crowed.  
Phoebe smiled uncertainly back at him, knowing full well he had said nothing of the sort.

Her exhaustion forgotten, she smiled again, to herself this time as she realised how quickly her luck had changed in just a few hours. Whereas before she was lonely and upset, she now had three new friends and was learning to speak French. She had even gotten over Sidney's unusual habit of talking to his own hand.

Phoebe settled down to sleep, content in the knowledge that she would wake up far happier tomorrow than she had been today.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**A/N: Here's another one, feel free to review. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Any publicly recognisable characters or songs are not mine and no profit will be made from their use.**

Phoebe woke early, again. She figured lie-ins were a thing of the past since she was living in a city that never seemed to sleep. She stood up and stretched, careful not to wake Sydney, then walked out into the street.

_I can have breakfast in one of those cafés I saw yesterday._

Phoebe strode quickly down the street and turned into the nearest café, her growling stomach demanding food. She sat down in a window seat, acutely aware of the looks she was getting from a family seated nearby.

Phoebe knew she did not look her best, to say the least. She hadn't had a chance to wash or change her clothes in the last two days and knew she must look unkempt and grubby in her current surroundings.

The two young children were staring at her with open-mouthed curiosity. The mother merely gave a disdainful sniff and pointedly looked in the other direction.

For a split second, Phoebe's eyes met those of the father and a jolt shot through her. She recognised him! It was Mr and Mrs Patterson from down her street and their two children, Ryan and Melissa. She turned away quickly, hoping they wouldn't recognise her.

_If I get up, I can leave now._

The thought had no sooner formed in her head when a waitress appeared so suddenly Phoebe could almost swear she had been hiding under the table. Her mouth was set in a grim, unsmiling line and she wore a look that suggested there was a bad smell under her nose.

"Would you like to order?" she spoke with false brightness.

"Errmmm... " Phoebe quickly scanned the menu.

"I'll have bacon and eggs on toast, please."  
The waitress sniffed, not unlike Mrs Patterson had done, then left, probably well aware that it was the cheapest breakfast option on the menu.

Phoebe shifted awkwardly in her seat, angling her ears towards the muted conversation going on between Mrs Patterson and her husband.

"Have you seen the riff-raff on the streets lately? It's ridiculous! I had one of them almost shoving a cup up my nose yesterday looking for money. If you ask me-

_No-one is asking you!_

-they should do it politely, not pushy like they normally are!"

_What do you expect them to do? I highly doubt you'd give them anything even if they did ask nicely!_

Mr Patterson seemed to share her misgivings.  
"But it's still begging, isn't it? No matter how politely they might do it."

"I know that, dear, but the thought would be nice, wouldn't it? They obviously don't realise how irritating it is to have money begged off you day and night!"

_Not half as irritating as it is sitting here listening to you talk about it!_

Phoebe clenched her fists under the table and was just about to turn away from the conversation when Mrs Patterson spoke again.

"Oh, isn't it awful what happened to the Bouffays? I always said they were a bad bunch, but this is taking the biscuit! The dad left to re-marry, step father imprisoned for God-knows-what, mother dead from an overdose and one child in care, the other disappeared! You know what they're saying, don't you?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"They're saying that it was almost 6 years the mother was unstable, but fell apart in the last few months before her death. Wasn't even looking after her girls! One of them, is it Ursula? She's in care now, and doing far better than she ever had with her parents. It's just terrible that some people are so neglectful, just terrible..."

She dissolved into silence as their food arrived, clearly not wanting the waitress to hear, though, Phoebe reflected, she had no problem talking with her two young children just inches away.

As the waitress left again, Mrs Patterson continued. Phoebe wondered why she was saying all of this. Her husband lived in the same place she did. Surely he had heard everything already?

"They're saying the other one's living on the streets. They can't find her, not with all the people around here. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. They're looking for her though, have her reported as a missing person and everything!"

Phoebe could feel Mr Patterson's curious gaze burning into her back. She ducked her head lower and hoisted the menu higher over her face, praying he wouldn't recognise her. She had always liked Mr Patterson and found him to be a more honest person than his wife, but that didn't help here, as the honest thing to do would be to turn her in.

_Please don't say anything, please don't say anything, please..._

"Look dear, I know all this already, but we shouldn't be discussing it so publicly. Lets just eat, shall we?"

Phoebe let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding and lowered the menu back to the table. The waitress came over, balancing a tray of food that made Phoebe's stomach growl.

She placed it on the table with the same disdainful expression she had worn when she had taken the order. Any brightness, false or otherwise, was gone, replaced by a sullen mumble that Phoebe had to strain her ears to hear.

"Bacon and eggs on toast."  
She turned to leave, only to pause and turn back.  
"Make sure to tell me when you're ready to pay-you can give it straight to me."

Phoebe had already seen several people collect their tabs and leave their money on the table. She knew the waitress knew about her living situation and didn't trust her. Phoebe forced herself not to make a biting retort, and simply replied;

"Of course!" and smiled dazzlingly at the waitress, who's scowl deepened as she turned to leave.

Phoebe wolfed her breakfast down in ten seconds flat, starving and desperate to leave. She had carefully tuned out the Patterson's conversation but knew they were nowhere near finished and she would have to leave before them. She stood up and walked over to the counter.

The grumpy waitress glanced up from a conversation, then made a point of turning back to finish it before she sauntered over to Phoebe.

"What do you want?" her attitude certainly hadn't improved.

Phoebe stared pointedly at the display of cakes in front of her under the glass covering, making sure to study each one separately in order to make the waitress wait. Then she glanced up, matching the waitress' sullen expression and manner.

"What?" she grunted.

The waitress scowled.  
"What. Do. You. Want?" she spat, distinctly separating each word.

"I need to pay."

"Fine, that's seven dollars."

Phoebe went back to her dazzling smile.  
"Thank you so much! Have a nice day!" she turned to leave, then spun around again.  
"By the way, smiling's free!" she winked. "Thought you ought to know..."

She breezed out of the café with a smile on her face and a spring in her step, at the same time making a mental note not to go there again-the waitress would definitely not be pleased.

Halfway down the street, a catchy, lilting guitar tune floated towards her over the sound of the traffic and people around her. Phoebe looked around, finally locating the source of the tune. A tall man with dark eyes and dreadlocked hair, was playing a guitar only metres away, his foot tapping out the beat on the pavement and his guitar case open at hie feet to collect coins.

She smiled even wider as an idea hit her. She could write songs-she had since she was younger. She could sing, well, kind of, and playing the guitar looked easy- how hard could it be? Phoebe knew her money would run out soon.

Three hundred dollars wouldn't last long on the streets, though it would take most of her money to buy a guitar, she believed it would be worth it if busking on the streets got her by and gave her the enjoyment that singing always had. If nothing else, it would be something to do during the day, she reasoned.

_After all, I'm only twelve, its not like I can get a job._

Buzzing with nervous excitement, Phoebe hared forwards, barely noticing the bustling crowds around her as she searched for a music shop. Spotting one, she practically dived inside, her eyes frantically searching the room for a guitar, before she realised that a slower approach might give better results, especially if she wanted a decent quality guitar.

Slowing down, Phoebe moved deeper into the shop, breathing in the smell of must and wood that at once scared and excited her. The shop was dark, warm and crowded with objects. Pianos,guitars, trumpets, drum sets, racks of music books and plenty of other instruments whose use Phoebe could only guess at, covered every available floor and wall space.

There was no order to the shop - it had a hazy, cluttered feel that gave it a relaxed atmosphere. This was combined with a deeper sense that its appearance was deceiving.

Phoebe was sure that anyone who entered this shop would find exactly what they wanted with very little searching-something about the still, dusty air assured her of this fact, and she stepped confidently further into the shop, her eyes lazily scanning the walls for guitars.

She spotted an entire wall of them straight away, in every possible shape, size and colour. She moved closer, scanning the entire wall and a guitar halfway along caught her eye. It was small, the perfectly textured surface a rich honey colour, and the edges smooth. The rough strings were stretched straight from end to end.

Phoebe moved swiftly towards the guitar, scooped it off the wall and held it carefully, examining it closely. She slipped the fabric strap over her head and smiled to herself as the weight of the guitar stretched it taut around her neck.

She supported it in her hands, unsure of how to hold it but more than willing to try. Phoebe raised a hand cautiously over the front of the guitar-she didn't know if she was supposed to ask before using the instruments, but it was a bit late for that.

Besides, there was no-one her to ask anyway and she desperately wanted to know what this guitar sounded like. She brought her carefully poised hand down in a smooth motion, nails scraping over the strings, which vibrated strongly. The deep, velvety sound they created seemed to hover in the air around her, stirring the dust particles and raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

Phoebe smiled. Oh yes, _this_ was her guitar!

Her deep sense of calm, and delight at having found the right instrument, was shattered with the arrival of a second person to the shop. Or, to be more exact, the person had been there already and had only now made themselves known.

"You know your not supposed to touch the instruments without express permission?"

Phoebe whirled round, the guitar suddenly feeling uncomfortably heavy around her neck.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know, I-"

"It's alright, dear, I was only joking."

Phoebe spluttered with surprise, staring at the woman in front of her as she searched for what to say next.

She was small, with long curly brown hair and bright, inquisitive blue eyes. Her mouth was stretched in a wide, friendly smile to reveal small white teeth and her eyes crinkled at the corners in a kind expression. She was draped in so many different shawls it was difficult to tell what she was wearing underneath and the bracelets around her wrists jangled as she reached to remove the guitar from around Phoebe's neck.

"Oh, don't be so nervous, dear, I'm not really angry! Oh, now, look at your aura!"  
Phoebe blinked. "What?"

"Your aura." the woman explained "It's showing that you are nervous, which I fear may be my fault."

Phoebe stared at her blankly.

"You see, dear, your aura is like an energy. It surrounds all living beings and betrays their true emotions, past and present feelings and experiences, health and well being. consisting of different colours to highlight different feelings. My mother taught me how to read people's auras when I was younger, and I've never forgotten!"

Phoebe smiled. The idea of being aware of another persons thought, emotions, experiences, without asking a single question fascinated her. It seemed like a rare and special gift.

_It's not really being nosy-the people who's auras you read could just as easily read yours, the informations all there, you just have to learn to notice it. _  
Well, that's what she told herself, anyway.

"That's amazing," she whispered, "Could you teach me?"

Phoebe immediately felt embarrassed at her outburst, aware that someone who had been a complete stranger just moments ago, was unlikely to want to teach a twelve year old girl such a rare, exotic skill.

The woman smiled.

"I will if you want me too." she stated.  
"And don't worry, it's not that rare; more people can do it than you would think."

Phoebe smiled jubilantly before realising she had gone completely off topic.

"About the guitar..." she began.  
"Emmm...how much is it?"

The woman smiled.  
"Five hundred dollars."

Phoebe's heart sank. She had wanted that guitar so badly, and now...she couldn't have it. She would have to find another, cheaper one to use instead. She opened her mouth to say this but the woman was already speaking.

"Listen, dear, I know how much you wanted it, so I'll tell you what; you can come over to the shop tomorrow and I'll give you a job. It's fairly low pay, but I can put that guitar away until you've saved enough to buy it. How's that?"

"Brilliant!"  
Unable to contain her excitement and relief, Phoebe leaped up and threw her arms around the woman's neck in a spontaneous hug. The woman laughed and pulled away after a moment.  
"I can teach you about auras when I take my lunch break as well." she added.

"Thank you so much!" Phoebe burst out happily.  
"By the way, my name's Phoebe!"  
"What's yours?" she ventured  
"Jane." The woman replied.  
Phoebe smiled as she turned to leave.  
"I'll see you tomorrow then, Jane."  
"Goodbye, Phoebe."

Phoebe stepped out of the music shop in better spirits than she had been in days.

_Call me crazy, but I think I just made a new friend..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six**

**A/N: Updating less often now as I'm back at school:( cant be helped, I suppose... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, obviously.**

Phoebe danced back into the alley, smiling widely as the cool shadow of the brick walls took over from the hot midday sun. She spotted Sidney sitting slumped against the dumpster and jubilantly called out a greeting. He didn't stir. For a split second, his complete un-responsiveness irritated Phoebe, and this was what caused her happy mood to be abruptly taken over by a more annoyed one.

"Hey, Sidney-what's up?" she tried again. Sidney grunted but otherwise made no reply.

"Guess what?"  
No answer.  
"I got a job!"

This elicited a response, though not the one Phoebe had been hoping for.

"You got a wha'?" Sidney snapped, leaping to his feet.  
"A job."  
"Wi' who?"  
"Jane- " She stopped.  
It suddenly occurred to Phoebe that she had no idea of anything else about the conditions of her job or her employer, other than a first name and a kind promise. Sidney was smiling at her jubilantly.

"Tol' you." He spoke smugly.  
"No you didn't!"

For a second Sidney looked perplexed, and then his face cleared.

"Oh, you're righ'; I didn'... Anyway, trus' me; anyone who is nice to you cannot be trusted. Didn' your mom ever tell you not ta speak ta strangers?

_I spoke to you and that turned out alright,_ Phoebe thought, though, given her current circumstances, she was inclined to disagree.

"It's dangerous, trustin' people." Sidney continued; "If their not in the same conditions as you, they don' understand, an' chances are they won' be so forgivin' when they find ou', neither."

Phoebe swallowed hard. He had a point. Jane had seemed kind, but there was no telling what she would be like if Phoebe went back, or what her real intentions were.

_Maybe it is dangerous; maybe I shouldn't go..._

_I can't believe I'm taking advice from a guy who talks to his own hand!_

With this ridiculous statement in mind, Phoebe turned to face Sidney.

"Look, I appreciate the help, but I'm going to go and talk to her at least. I really need the money and she seemed so nice..." Phoebe trailed off, aware that her explanation sounded weak at best.

Sidney looked like he might argue, then turned and walked back to the dumpster, slumping down against it. Looking at him now, it was hard to tell he had ever moved. Phoebe turned back out onto the street, unwilling to stay in the alley where she knew Sidney's doubts would crawl around her head and eat away at any confidence she possessed.

_I need a distraction..._

Phoebe's stomach growled.

_Food-I'll find something to eat._

It was thirty minutes later before Phoebe realised that this particular venture was far easier said than done. There were street vendors on almost every corner, but Phoebe wanted a proper meal and all of the buildings she passed were cafés.

To make matters worse, she couldn't remember either the name or location of the café she had been in this morning, and her desire to avoid the grumpy waitress along with the memory of Mrs Patterson's exchange with her husband, was enough to keep her walking steadily past all of the cafés.

Phoebe turned a couple of corners, hurried down a side street and came up in another, wider street, lined with restaurants.

_Thank God._

She hurried down the street, weaving through the crowds and slipped inside a small restaurant, quieter than the ones around it, though not before she paused outside to memorise the name, just in case.

The restaurant was dark inside, three walls painted a light cream and the fourth overlaid with brick. Thick, dark wooden beams supported the ceiling and small tables laid with pale tablecloths and intricately folded napkins were dotted about the room. Only about five of the twenty or so tables were occupied.

It was definitely quiet, but, after the day she'd had, Phoebe felt that a bit of peace and quiet was just what she needed.

A waiter popped up seemingly out of nowhere, the friendly smile on his face freezing in place when he looked at her properly. Phoebe was aware that she still had not changed her clothes or washed, and suddenly found herself wondering what had possessed her to come into a fancy restaurant, when she had looked out of place in a grotty café. She resolved to talk to Sidney later about her finding a decent place to clean up.

_After he's gotten over his anger fit..._

Phoebe shook off the thought that Sidney's so called 'anger fit' was probably more lingering insanity than anything else, considering the last thing she had seen him doing before she left the alley was gabbling away earnestly to his hand. If Sidney really was crazy, what was she going to do?

_What if he turns on me?_

Wow. Her happy mood was most definitely gone...

She suddenly became aware that the waiter had found both his voice and his decorum, and was leading her towards a table in the farthest corner of the café away from the door.

"Is this table okay, ma'm?" he asked politely, his eyes begging her to say yes.

For a brief second, Phoebe was really tempted to disagree just so he would have to put her somewhere where she would actually be noticed, but she was suddenly too tired to argue.

"Yes, it's fine."

The look of relief on the waiter's face was obvious. He turned back to the main part of the restaurant without a word, the fake smile sliding easily off of his face when he thought she wasn't looking.

_Smooth_.

Phoebe pulled the menu towards her, the exhaustion that had taken her over moments ago showing no signs of abating. She scanned through the menu quickly, balking at the prices.

_How the hell am I going to afford a full meal?_

Phoebe pushed the thought away; no-one was making her order three courses, she would just order one main course and hope for the best. At any rate, it would be more filling than the breakfast she had had in the café.

It was almost an three hours later when Phoebe left. The restaurant had grown exceedingly busy only minutes after she had arrived and being seated in a dark corner had done her no favours in her attempts to be served early.

The excessively polite waiters had done her head in as well, to the point where she wasn't sure which was worse; people being painfully polite to pretend that they liked her, or people openly disliking her.

_Probably disliking me openly, _Phoebe mused.

_After all, at least I have a reason if I punch them..._

Phoebe stepped out into the darkening street, shivering in the unexpected cold. It was only when she had turned and taken a few steps down the street that she faltered to a stop, realising she had absolutely no idea where she was going.

Phoebe had been lost in her own thought after the confrontation with Sidney, and her desire to eat as soon as possible had caused her to neglect noticing anything in her surroundings that would have given her a clue as to what she should look for on her way back.

_Maybe I could ask someone?_

Even as she thought it, Phoebe knew it was hopeless. The streets had emptied considerably in the last few hours and the fact that it was getting dark so quickly led her to belief that an absence of a watch might have caused her to misjudge the time that she had gotten up.

_It can't be any later than seven... can it?_?

_Asking someone is a ridiculous idea anyway, what would you say? 'Excuse me, sir, but I was wondering if you could direct me to a dark alley nearby that has a dumpster and a mad old man that talks to his hand. I live there, see.'_

Phoebe snorted. Yes, that would go down well. She turned quickly, tucked her head down, and started to walk, not entirely sure where she was going, but aware that she should at least try to look like she knew.

It would be easier to find her way in the daylight, but sleeping on an unfamiliar street in the dark was not something she really wanted to do. Mind you, wandering around in the dark looking for the right street wasn't looking particularly appealing either.

Making a split second decision, Phoebe turned down a nearby alley, huddling into the darkest shadows against the wall. She could sleep here for tonight and find her way back tomorrow. She spread out her blanket and hitched her rucksack up against the wall, then lay down beside it, wrapping the blanket around her in a vain attempt to keep warm.

It was the longest night of Phoebe's young life. She slept fitfully, shivering with cold and waking often to impenetrable darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. Every creaking drain or light, hurried step on the footpath became a mass murderer or a vicious dog or a ghost.

She slipped into an uneven sleep as the first light of dawn brightened the sky, then awoke to many people hurrying along the outside footpath and the noisy honking of traffic clogging up the road. Phoebe had never been so relieved to hear such everyday sounds.

She sloped out of the alley and scouted around the streets for a while. Things looked more familiar and less threatening in the daylight and she soon found her way back to the alley, though she was pretty sure it had less to do with quick wits and a lot more to do with luck.

She paused at the alley briefly, but Sidney wasn't there. She was somewhat relieved, as an encounter would have undoubtedly been awkward.

_Be grateful for small mercies_, she told herself, though if this actually counted as a mercy, or just a stroke of luck she was unsure.

Phoebe hurried quickly to the music shop, shaking herself out of her progressively stupid thoughts. She had no idea what time it was, but she couldn't even remember what time she had been told to come and found herself hoping that she wasn't late.

"Hello?" she called, stepping cautiously into the shop. It was open, so she was probably late.

"Jane? I'm sorry I'm late, I got lost last night, and, well, whatever..." Phoebe trailed off when she realised that Jane wasn't there. She spotted a bright yellow post it stuck to the polished wood counter and stepped closer to read it.

_Phoebe,_

_I know you are worried about whether or not you can trust me but you can, I promise. I know that you live on the streets; that makes no difference to me and it shouldn't to other people. I had to pop out but we can talk when I get back and feel free to start your shift now. I left the door open for you to get in, there is little danger of a robbery as I knew you would arrive on time and I sometimes think people forget this little shop is even here. Feel free to use any of the facilities upstairs, the flat is mine. I'll see you later._

_ Jane_

Phoebe scooped up the post-it and threw it into the bin-there was nothing on it that she wouldn't remember anyway. She felt a lot better about things now, though she knew she was going to have to talk to Jane before the air was completely cleared.

Phoebe moved behind the desk to dump her rucksack, then settled down in the chair to start her job. The trill of the bell over the door alerted her to a customer's entrance and she turned to greet them, a smile plastered on her face and words of welcome on her tongue.

The words stuck in her throat, choking her, when she saw who it was. Everything she had been going to do flew from her mind and was replaced with blackness as impenetrable as the night before had been. She swallowed thickly, new words making their way out of her mouth and into the air.

"Hi... Ursula."

_Oh crap._

**Please review, it would make my day... :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**A/N: Many thanks to TheCharmedRose for their kind review!:) there's no rule against other people reviewing either...**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing to do with friends. I wish I did, but I don't...**

"Ursula."

Her sister's name came out as a hoarse whisper, barely audible under normal circumstances, but strangely loud in the silent shop. Phoebe opened her mouth again, but nothing else would come out. At least, nothing discernible.

"What-" _are you doing here? _  
"Why-" _did you come?_  
"How-"_ did you get here?_

Since forming coherent sentences seemed to be beyond her realm of capabilities at this current moment, Phoebe contented herself with simply taking in her sisters appearance.

Ursula was wearing brand new denim jeans and an equally bright red top, just peeking out over the collar of her expensive looking parka coat. Her hair was smooth, clean and shiny, her eyes bright, but it was her face which shocked Phoebe the most.

The features were sharp and hard. They had always been sharp, maybe due to a lack of food, but there was thinness, and then there was the cold haughtiness that oozed from every pore of Ursula's skin. Every smooth, collected movement and icy glare just screamed how much better she thought she was than anyone else, which apparently now included her homeless sister.

Phoebe swallowed. She had never fully gotten along with Ursula, but she had never hated her, either. They loved each other really, in a begrudging, we're-siblings-so-we-have-to kind of way, but still.

The occasional mild glares or minor fights were nothing compared to the frostiness that pierced the air between them now, dropping the temperature by several degrees and making the hairs on the back of Phoebe's neck prickle.

"Ursula...why are you here?"

The sentence hung in the air between them, unanswered. Ursula's eyes scored coldly up and down Phoebes body, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

_Disgust at her own sister. Well I'm not all that impressed with you, either._

Finally, Ursula spoke.

"I wanted to see you."

_A spark of hope._

"Really?"

"Yes, I wanted to try and convince you to come with me back to the orphanage. You're clearly wallowing in your own filth out here. I mean-"

_And there it goes._

Her lip curled in further disgust.

"- you were never all that aware of personal hygiene, but you can't seriously expect to live out here like a savage? It's...unnatural!"

Ursula suddenly stamped her foot in a childish fit worthy of any five year old, her words sharp and angry.

"This is ridiculous, Phoebe! _You_ are ridiculous! It was a stupid, stupid idea to live out here! How will you get food, and clothes and- and- well, anything? I will _not_ be known as the girl who has a homeless tramp for a sister!"

_Ouch_.

For a second, doubt seared through Phoebes mind. Was Ursula right? Living on the street had certainly not been easy so far, it would be in the best interests of everyone for her to just give up, and go back. Wouldn't it?

Despite the ease with which Phoebe knew Ursula had slipped into her new lifestyle, it had had an irreversible effect on her. Whoever she hung out with, whatever she heard, or was doing, or being told, seemed to have obliterated every inch of the sister she had once known, replacing her with a cold, hard shell of her former self, convinced she was a cut above everyone else, including her own sister.

_Especially her own sister._

For the first time since Ursula had entered, Phoebe looked up and met her sisters eyes, hoping for a glimpse of her old self. Instead she was met with a solid wall of pure, unadulterated hatred that burned into her mind and through her heart, tearing it apart.

_She hates me. I'm her sister and she hates me._

Then Ursula spoke again, her cruel words crushing the rest of Phoebe's resolve to dust.

"I'm going to get a sister, you know. A real sister. The foster families come to see us when they want to, and they _always_ love me. They just haven't picked me yet, and you know why? Because of _you_. Nobody wants to adopt a girl with a worthless tramp for a sister. Who knows what she would be like, if her sister was mad enough to choose a life on the streets? It's all your fault, Phoebe Bouffay, and I _hate_ you!"

Phoebe had known it already, but hearing the words out loud made the pain ten times worse. A strangled gasp escaped her throat, but she choked back the sobs, determined not to give Ursula the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

_My sister would be happy to see me cry. Oh god..._

Phoebe looked up to meet her sister's eyes for the last time, some small part of her still hoping for a miracle; to see the sister she had left behind, the on who had said she would miss her.

Ursula met Phoebe's eyes with a cold, hard stare.

"Just leave, Ursula. I don't need you here, and I definitely don't want you here. I'm not coming with you because being out her on the streets is a ten billion times better than being anywhere with you!"

Though Phoebe would not let her sadness become apparent, it seemed to have manifested itself into anger that took her over completely, pouring out of her mouth in a stream of barbed words. She suddenly wanted to hurt her Ursula as much as she had hurt her.

"You know, when you came, I thought you cared. I thought you wanted to see your only sister. I thought you missed me. I missed you, but not the person you've become. You think you're so much better than me, Ursula, but I promise you, you're not. I've forged a living on the streets by myself. What did you do? You left to an orphanage, let other people clean up the mess, do the thinking for you, let them mould into into someone who thinks they're a cut above the rest. You don't want me as a sister? That's fine, because I don't want _you! S_o just get out, before I throw you out!"

For a millisecond, there was a flash of emotion in Ursula's eyes. A glimpse of hurt, of regret. Then, it was gone.

"Fine, don't think I want to stay."

She turned towards the door, then paused.

"By the way, you missed your own mom's funeral."

Ursula left in a flurry of cold air.

Phoebe stared after her for several seconds before the sobs started; painful, full-bodied sobs that tore through her chest, burned her eyes and throat and sent tears streaming in hot trails down her face. She gulped for air, the raw hatred of her own sister still burning in the air. All the time, one thought resonated through her head.

_This is all my fault..._

**Sorry it's so short, I don't have a lot of time and this just came to me. Please review anyway! :) xxxxx**


End file.
